


Just Stay With Me

by ebonysblues



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bars and Pubs, Boys Kissing, Clubbing, John is Not Amused, John wears Sherlocks shirt, Johnlock - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Minor Molly Hooper/Greg Lestrade, Molly and Greg cockblock, Mutual Pining, Mycroft Being a Bastard, Mycroft flirts with John, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Sharing Clothes, Sherlock is Not Amused, Sherlock is an ass, drunk!lock, sorry..., sort of, sort-of date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2492720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebonysblues/pseuds/ebonysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson's dorm mate annoys the hell out of him (he kinda likes it though).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> My first Sherlock fanfiction. Feedback is appreciated. I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are mine. Johnlock is great, am I right? Have fun reading this.

John Watson's room mate is infuriating, obnoxious, and a showoff, and... and a thousand other bloody things. The bastard kept John awake playing the violin at odd hours of the night. He has skeleton heads all over the dorm room, and once he hung up a mannequin, making it look like a suicide, nearly scaring John to death! He also shot off bullets because he was bored. Bored! What kind of person would do that, you ask? Sherlock Holmes, that's who.

The guy was single handedly making John's college life a living hell. John not only had to share a room with Sherlock, they also have three classes together. Three! Those were just torturous. As afore mentioned, Sherlock's a showoff. He can't help but let the professors and the students know that he knows more than them, or if not then to let them know that he knows everything about them.

John didn't want to rag on the guy, he really didn't, but John didn't think he had any other choice. Sherlock just had to make fun of his jumpers, his height, and his blog. Sure, the slur of profanity he would shout back should have been enough of a vengeance, but John was a bit touchy about being called names. Besides, you just don't do that to a guy, call them names, that is.

Sherlock walks through the door, breaking off John's thoughts. He says a greeting to the man by only saying his name. John only rolls his eyes and doesn't reply. "So, what are you up to?" Sherlock asks, in a tone that very much annoys John.

He huffs, and says, "I'm writing an essay and it might take all night, so if you could please refrain from playing the violin at two in the morning. It would be greatly appreciated."

"Oh, yeah, I'll be sure to play it at four in the morning instead." Sherlock says sarcastically, or at least John hopes it's sarcasm.

"Very funny, Sherlock," John groans. Sherlock laughs while jumping onto his bed and laying on it on his side. He positions one of his arms into a 45 degree angle to hold up his head while he lets the other hang loosely at his side. John catches a glimpse of Sherlock's naval as his shirt rides up. He can't help but to notice the beautiful pale skin. His mouth falls open slightly as he thinks about what it would be like to roam his fingers along the smooth skin. John quickly casts his glance away and feels heat rising into his cheeks. He lets his eyes rest on his laptop screen and curses himself everytime his eyes start to wander over to the man laying on the bed.

He resolves to finish several more paragraphs, ultimately ending the essay long before he thought he would.

John slams his laptop shut, rests his arms over it and lays down his head. He closes his eyes, beginning to feel tired. He's almost asleep until, of course, "John! Wake up! Come with me!" Sherlock shouts at him. John snaps his head up and his eyes open.

"Um, what?" John asks, sleepily.

The dark haired man sighs, hopping off of his bed to walk over to John. He grabs him by the chin and turns his head so that they are eye-to-eye."We're going out." He says this definitively, leaving no room for an argument.

"Okay," John mumbles. He sits up and slips on his shoes, all while rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. He says, "Alright, let's go," rubbing at his arms awkwardly.

Sherlock gives John a scrutinized look as his eyes travel the length of his body, "Not like that," He states. John looks down at what he's wearing, seeing nothing wrong. Honestly, what's wrong with jumpers?

Apparently, Sherlock doesn't feel the same way. He pulls out a navy-blue button down shirt from his closet and holds it out for John, telling him to 'try it on'. 

John does as Sherlock asks, coming out of the bathroom looking flustered. Sherlock gives him the once over and a faint smile.

"That's better."

 

 

The taxi smells of sweat and puke, not exactly mood enlightening. So far, the cab ride to the pub has been filled with nothing except Sherlock's taunting and knit-picking about his jumpers. John mostly rolls his eyes and sighs at every quip.

"Seriously, though! Jumpers?" Sherlock teases, with a cocky look on his face. John sighs, continuing to stare out of the window. He bites his lip, feeling anxious. John has never been the type to stay out all night drinking, he would much rather stay indoors and read a good story. He nervously taps his feet, wondering why he even let himself do this. John tries to convince himself that it has nothing to do with his growing attraction for the man. Thinking things like, 'I'm not gay,' and 'Besides, the guy's an asshole.'

"John, there's no need to worry. Just stay with me and you'll be alright. Great, even. In fact, stay with me and tonight will be the best night of your life." Sherlock says to him, but not in a cocky way, surprisingly. John turns his head to meet Sherlock's eyes, which are strikingly blue. It's a beautiful kind of blue, like the sky just after it rains.

The taxi driver pulls the cab over, parking in front of the pub. Sherlock pays for the fare, telling John, "No, no, no, put your money away! I've got it." They both exit out of the taxi and enter the bar.

The place smells like John always thought it would smell like; booze and perspiration. It was loud, the base pounding into John's ears, vibrating through his whole body. The air was humid, only adding to the dampness that was all around him. The people, oh god, so many people all packed in close together, dancing.

John stayed close to Sherlock, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Okay, _completely_ overwhelmed. Sherlock grabs his hand, pulling him to the bar. John does his best to ignore the sparks flowing into his hand and the fireworks erupting inside of him. "Two vodkas and put it on my tab." Sherlock tells the bartender.

John looks at the guy's name tag. 'Mycroft,' it reads. Mycroft glares at Sherlock with disdain. When he's finished with that, he turns his attention to the left, or more specifically, to John. His eyes light up when he settles them onto the man. Mycroft gives him a flirtatious smile and says, "Please tell me that you aren't with this asshole," pointing to Sherlock. "And that you are completely up for the taking."

John immediately blushes a furious red, muttering something like, "Unnng, nooo, um-"

Sherlock glares at Mycroft, saying furiously, "Mycroft, stop flirting with John!"

"What are you going to do? Tell mummy on me?" He teases, smiling coyly. 'They're brothers' John thinks. He wonders if Mycroft is older, it certainly seems like it. 

Sherlock huffs and states, "Just get us our drinks, for god's sake." Mycroft does as he is told, taking his time about it and then, finally he slams down the glasses.

"There, are you happy now?" Mycroft asks sarcastically. He turns to John while pulling out a card or something from his pocket and holding it out for him to grab. "Call me sometime." John reaches out to grab the card, having no desire to call but not wanting to be rude or impolite. Sherlock intercedes him though, tearing the card out of Mycroft's hands and ripping it to shreds.

Sherlock snatches the drinks, handing John his. He grabs onto John's empty hand, saying, "Come on, let's go." He pulls the smaller man into the crowd, maneuvering him through the people. John could feel thighs brush against his and other people's hair whoosh in his face. John could hear Sherlock muttering, "Stupid arse... who does he think he ... God, he's so... why did I even..." John begins biting his lip again, feeling nervous.  

Sherlock continues holding his hand, creating butterflies in John's stomach. A warm energy transfers between their hands.

Finally, they reach a booth on the other side of the bar and sit. They let go of each others hands when they do and John immediately misses the warmth that is now gone because of it.

Sherlock chugs his vodka, upon finishing he slams his glass on the table. "Your turn."

John looks at Sherlock with dismay. John knew the reason he had come was not to get drunk off of his ass. To be honest, the only reason he had come here was to spend some time with Sherlock. Though he was on edge about getting drunk. 'One drink,' he thinks. 'One drink and that'll be it.' John decides to do as Sherlock did and chug it. The liquid burns his throat as it goes down. A cough threatens to leave Johns mouth but he is able to keep it stifled. He winces at the sour taste left in his mouth. With just a glass, he begins to feel a slight buzz in his body.

John turns his head to look up at Sherlock who is sitting on the same side as him. Sherlock gives him a faint smirk, his usual one; the one that irritates the hell out of John. John chooses to ignore it, saying, "I never knew you had a brother."

Sherlock chuckles, rolling his eyes, he replies, "It's not something I like to broadcast."

"He's not so bad, I mean, he's actually kind of nice..." John says, trying to shrug off the awkwardness of Mycroft flirting with him.

"Yeah, right," Sherlock states, "The guy's an asshole." John nods, he can relate what with all those years of sibling rivalry between him and Harry.

Sherlock turns away from him and sits up. John follows his lead and sees two people coming up to the booth: A petite dark blonde haired woman and a medium build man. They greet Sherlock with a hug and then shake John's hand. "I'm Molly and this is Greg," the woman says, or as she introduced herself; Molly. She, Greg, and John all share awkward smiles with each other. Though they do seem rather familiar. Maybe they have a class together? African Art History, possibly.

They all usher into their seats and begin to get acquainted with each other. John finds out that they do in fact all share the same class. "I see you've already downed your glasses, Molly and I will get us some more. Beers, anyone?" Sherlock and John both nod their heads. Molly and Greg get up from the table, leaving Sherlock and John alone, once again.

"Greg and Molly are nice people." John says slowly, worried about stuttering. He was afraid that he might do that, seeing as how he and Sherlock were in such a close proximity to each other.

"Yeah, yeah, they are." Sherlock says, chuckling. When he stops, his lips form a sad smile and he says quietly, so quietly it's a whisper, "I have no idea what they are hanging around with me for." John takes in a deep breath, getting ready to tell Sherlock some encouraging things. He doesn't get the chance though, because Sherlock changes the discussion. "You're okay with being here, right?" John gapes at Sherlock, feeling surprised by the inquisition. Sherlock is the type of person who hardly ever doesn't know the answer to a question, and he's always a smart ass upon answering. Sherlock acknowledges the shock on John's face and clears it up by saying, "As you may know, John, I'm good at reading people. I'm really good at reading people, if I do say so myself. It's just that, well, most times I've got a clear read on you. I know whether you are feeling sad or happy or mad, but other times... I guess I just get distracted. My thoughts have become jumbled and my mind palace has been harder to enter into..." Sherlock pauses, discontinuing his sentence, leaving John completely confused.

"What are you trying to say?" John asks, tentatively. He thinks he has an idea of what Sherlock wants to say but he asks the question to be sure. He suspects that he's only holding onto slim hope and this- whatever this is- means nothing. At least, to Sherlock, that is. 

Sherlock leans in closer to him and says in a deep voice, "What I am trying to tell you, John, is that-"

"Beers for the four of us!" Greg says, him and Molly sliding Sherlock and John's drinks in front of them, breaking off Sherlock's sentence. Sherlock glares at the both of them for doing so, even while he was drinking his beer. John, too, felt a bit angry with them for cutting off Sherlock's sentence. He figures, though, that Sherlock's not the type to leave things unresolved. John just hopes that he's right.

John gingerly sips at his beer, while the others gulp theirs down. He didn't want to get shit-faced drunk his first time at a bar. John finishes his drink after a couple minutes of small talk.

"Molly, would you like to dance with me?" Greg says, offering his hand. Molly smiles, taking his hand. They both get up and enter onto the dance floor. They begin to dance passionately and close to each other.

Sherlock clears his throat, drawing John's attention away from Greg and Molly and back onto the towing dark haired man who was sitting next to him. "Well, like I was trying to tell you earlier, John... Actually, I think it would be better if I showed you." John, feeling confused, does nothing except raise his eyebrows as Sherlock leans into him and presses his lips against John's, their mouths meeting. John fervently kisses back, upon realizing that his slim piece of hope didn't lead him astray and he was right about what Sherlock wanted to tell him.

John and Sherlock continue sliding their lips against each others, passionately. John reaches his hand up and places it into Sherlock's hair, tugging on his curls. Sherlock moans and settles one of his hands on John's thigh and the other on the small of his back, holding him around the waist. John deepens the kiss letting Sherlock's tongue seep into his mouth. John could taste the beer on Sherlock's tongue and a hint of cigarette. Sherlock's teeth graze John's bottom lip, causing a soft groan to leave his mouth and enter Sherlock's. Sherlock honest-to-God smiles! He does it though as he's pulling away."You're okay with this, right?

John nods slightly absent minded due to the kissing and bites his lips. Sherlock smiles again, telling him, "I told you if you stayed with me you would be alright."

"What is it again, that you said? Wasn't it that if I stayed with you -"

"Tonight would be the best night of your life." Sherlock finishes, smiling.

'Interrupting bastard' John thinks, shaking his head. Sherlock looks at him quizzically. 'He's wondering why you're shaking your head,' John realizes.

"What are you thinking?" Sherlock asks.

"I was thinking that it would be... if we took a cab back to the dorm."

**Author's Note:**

> im ebonysblues on tumblr, follow me!


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